


The Benefactor

by flung0ut0fspace



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: #Business Wives, #I binged succession right after gentleman jack and this is the result, #Literally just season 1 of GJ but in the world of Finance?, #Succession!AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 05:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flung0ut0fspace/pseuds/flung0ut0fspace
Summary: Charismatic businesswoman Anne Lister has just been named CEO of the family business, Shibden Properties, one of the top 10 real estate developers in the world. Ready to put down roots in her career and personal life, Anne’s plans are upended when she learns she’s inherited a company in financial crisis. She needs to right the ship, and fast. But when she meets Ann Walker, heiress to the Walker Media fortune, she finds much more than a potential investor.





	The Benefactor

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'll keep it short and sweet: this fic is what my brain did after binging Succession like twice in a row right after watching Gentleman Jack a few times. Essentially recreates the story and characters of s1 of Gentleman Jack and places them in the world of the modern day New York business elite. There's definitely a decent amount of corporate-speak in this, and will continue to be, but hopefully it will not distract from enjoying the story.

Traffic on the FDR was at a stand still. It was a gray Monday morning and everyone seemed content to be running anywhere between 15 minutes to an hour late for work. Everyone except Anne Lister, who sat in the back seat of her town car tapping her foot anxiously, hoping to will the bottleneck open.

She adjusted the lapels of her smart navy blue suit, licked her thumb and rubbed off a smudge on her immaculate chestnut-colored wingtip shoes, straightened the stiff-straight collar on her white dress shirt. In the mirror, her hair was its usual sharp shoulder-length bob, highlighting her androgynous features in a way that pleased her as she took in her reflection. Even if she was late, she would look the part.

Today was Anne Lister’s first day as CEO of her family’s business, Shibden Properties. Since the earliest days of construction began in New York City, Shibden, named for the mansion the first John Lister of New York built himself in 1876, had been a revered name in New York real estate, growing into a global conglomerate that operated residential, commercial, and hotel properties. After the death of her grandfather when she was nine years old, the company passed to her uncle, George, with her father Jeremy staying on as COO. It was a man’s world, but as the eldest of two daughters, the only descendants of her generation, it was Anne who was left to take up the mantle of succession.

And now, at 40 years old, her time had finally come. And she was running late.

“What’s it saying for ETA?” she asked her genial driver, John. 

“Keeps changing, Miss Lister. Right now it’s saying another half hour. But it’s been saying that the last 15 minutes or so.”

“Jesus christ it’s only 20 blocks,” she muttered. John just smiled apologetically in the rearview mirror.

Anne sighed, annoyed. She looked down at her Swiss watch and considered her options. She looked forward and back, nobody was moving.

“Ok, John. I’m just gonna get out here,” she decided.

“Wait — what?” but before he could stop his boss, she had slung her briefcase over her shoulder and opened the door, stepping out into the middle of traffic.

“Miss Lister! I can drop you at the corner the light’s about to change!” John called. But Anne was already marching across three lanes of traffic, paying no mind to the cars honking and drivers swearing as she passed. 

She alighted onto the sidewalk and walked on blithely as if she owned half the city, and, quite frankly, she more or less did.

—————

In a cool 20 minutes she arrived at the main entrance of Shidben Headquarters in midtown having barely broken a sweat. She was greeted at the door by a brawny but kind-looking young security guard who seemed to be waiting for her.

“Good Morning, Miss Lister,” he said, opening the door for her.

“Morning, Joe,” she replied as she walked in past him. It took him a moment to put together that he hadn’t seen her get out of a car. He hurried to catch up.

“Wait, ma’am did you walk here?”

“Traffic was hell. I can get anywhere in 20 minutes on foot. I don’t know why I even bother with a car in this city at all.”

“Miss Lister that really isn’t advisable. A woman in your position.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Joe, it’s 9 am. And besides, people like me.” Joe decided not to press the issue any further as she left him by the door en route toward the elevators. Anne took the opportunity to glance up at the large clock in the lobby that read 9:20, just late enough to pass off as a power move. She smiled to herself satisfactorily. 

Now in a drastically better mood, Anne swiped her identification and made her way to the nearest open elevator. She stepped in alone, waiting for the doors to close. Just as they did, a young associate stuck his hand in between, out of breath. 

“Hold it!” but when the doors opened and he saw who was occupying the elevator, his face grew even redder. “Oh. Sorry Miss Lister. Um…congratulations. I’ll get the next one,” he fumbled. Anne didn’t react as the doors closed again. She laughed a little to herself. 

Finally, the ding of the elevator brought her to the C-Suite offices. She took a breath, took in the moment that was about to happen: she would be entering the office of the chief executive as the chief executive.

She thought back to all the times she had sat on one side of the desk across from her domineering uncle, as often for appreciation as for admonishment. It had been a long road to bring her here, but she had never lost sight of this moment. This moment was what it had all been for.

Anne let out her breath and rounded the corner onto the floor. Her assistant, Eugenie Pierre, who had only been with her the last two years, was ready with a smile at her desk outside of Anne’s new office. She was clearly appreciating the upgrade as well. 

At the sight of Anne, Eugenie stood to greet her.  
“Morning, Miss Lister. I’ve left your messages on your desk. Waited on the coffee until you got here.”

“Thank you. Can you go to the Starbucks Reserve? I’m the CEO, I want a cup of Blue Mountain,” Anne said as she handed Eugenie her bag and coat and marched into her office. Eugenie followed and hung up the items on the coat rack in the corner.

“Of course.” It wasn’t obvious if Eugenie was happy with the task or not, but she would likely send one of the newer assistants out for it anyway. “Oh and Sam said he would pop in once you got here.”

Anne sighed and looked through the stack of messages on her desk. “Has anyone called that I want to hear from?”

“Just some congratulations. A few celebrities giving you a shoutout with a Girlboss hashtag.”

Anne made a face. She found that sort of thing tacky.

“Oh and Marianna Lawton called. She wanted to set up a dinner later this week while she’s in town. Looks like you have Thursday free.”

“Very good. Tell her Thursday 8:00. Reservations at whatever the new place is this week.”  
Eugenie nodded and, their business seemingly concluded, closed the door behind her before setting off in search of a lesser assistant to send on a Starbucks run.

Finally alone, Anne took it all in: the magnificent view of the skyline out her window near the top floor, the elegant bar in the back of the office, a fixture for every CEO since the earliest days of the company, now stocked with her favorite bourbons. There was a mid-century modern deep blue couch flanked by two matching chairs. 

And the desk. A magnificent hulk of a thing, rich mahogany. It had belonged to John Lister in the original Shibden, the desk from which the company was born. The family had asked it be moved to the office when they decided to stop living in the mansion and instead open it as a museum to their family. It was now quite a tourist attraction as one of the last mansions in the city, a relic of the true meaning of old New York money. 

Anne took her time stepping from the side she had always stood on, to the other. She ran her fingers across the beautiful wood and looked out at the city. It was a moment she would never forget, just before sitting down in her chair as the first female CEO of Shibden. When she finally did, she couldn’t help let a tear escape.

The moment-savoring would have to wait, however. Just then, in burst a well-dressed man, maybe a year or two younger than Anne, with a friendly grin and bouncing walk.

“Well here she is. Boss Lady Lister. How’s it feel sitting on that side of the world?” the man asked. 

“Sam, I just got here.”

He flopped down onto one of the armchairs in front of her. This was Sam Washington, newly appointed COO. During the changing of the guard, part of Anne’s stipulations were that she would have a say in the appointments of her C-Suite. That meant Sam, who had worked as her right hand when she was the head of global hotels, would be with her at the top, along with new CFO Margaret Hunt. 

“Just wanted to make sure you saw the story,” he announced, setting a copy of Forbes Magazine in front of her. He had unfolded to a page that declared Anne Lister the #5 Most Powerful Woman in Business. 

“You know I hate reading this shit.”

“You agreed to the profile.”

“So that other people could read it.”

“Strike fear in the hearts of your enemies?”

“Something like that.”

“Well you already know I find you intimidating. So does everyone else here. Benevolent, sure, but…terrifying.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I think that’s my way of saying you’re gonna be an amazing boss.”

“I’ve been your boss for the last ten years.”

“And so you shall continue to be, Number Five. Jesus do you remember that? Pulled me out of Walker Media just in time before the old man croaked, rest his soul.”

“You were wasting away over there. Just like everything else with that company, I guess. Who even is in charge anymore? Haven’t they been stripped for parts by private equity by now?”

“Miraculously no. Ann, the youngest daughter, still has controlling shares but her cousin Priestley runs it. I don’t think she does much but sit in on board meetings. All her money is in a Family Office so they spend it for her, mostly just carrying on whatever Papa Walker was investing in. But she’s back in New York now, and apparently she’s been showing up for work. So, I guess someone told her to start caring.”

“She’s gotta be worth at least a billion. What a waste.”

Anne took in the information, troubled by it, but there was something else. Something about the name Ann Walker that tugged at her in a way she didn’t have the time or focus to figure out right now. She remembered meeting the Walkers a handful of times in her younger days at the islands and parties only families of their stature knew about. She hadn’t seen or heard much of them in the last ten years once she became a global division leader, galavanting around the world. A tragic new-moneyed media conglomerate could hardly keep her interest, though she sent flowers at the news of John Walker’s death.

“So what’s the deal with Vere Hobart? You two have a cute vacation?” Sam asked, pivoting the conversation into friendlier waters. Anne wasn’t ready for the transition quite yet. 

“I told you that was nothing. It’s less than nothing now.”

“Her husband get in the way?”

“They always do,” Anne shot back playfully. The pair laughed. Sam stood from his seat, preparing to leave.

“You know Anne, it might shock you to hear this but, some women are both gay and single. That venn diagram DOES have a center, I promise you.”

Anne couldn’t help a smirk at his teasing.

“Get the hell out of my office.” 

Sam laughed and took his exit. Anne resumed her contemplation, now with the added reminder of her current single status. She had always relished the lifestyle, a different woman in every city, but now, the permanence of the magnificent desk at which she sat only highlighted the permanence of her new position, and suddenly the old wound of loneliness opened itself again.

—————

About an hour and two cups of Jamaican Blue Mountain roast later, a knock came at Anne’s door. 

“It’s open, Eugenie,” she said without looking up from her computer. 

“Well at least they got you a new chair. God knows what your uncle’s ass did the last one,” came the sarcastic sound of Elizabeth Cordingley, the firm’s General Counsel. She closed the door behind her as she entered. Cordingley wasn’t much older than Anne, and had been with the family for the last twenty years. She was something between a godmother, cousin, and employee to Anne. 

“Is this where you tell me where the bodies are buried?” Anne only partially joked.

“Oh don’t worry that’s someone else’s problem. But I won’t bullshit you I am here to have a difficult conversation, yes.”

“Am I already voted out?”

Cordingley didn’t laugh, just smiled and pressed on.

“What do you know of your uncle as a businessman?” she began.

“Is that a trick question? Is his ghost going to smite me for the wrong answer?”

“Seriously, Anne.”

Anne thought for a long moment.

“I think he led with good intentions for the most part, but made some bad investments. He thought mostly in the short term, quick fixes, and now Shibden is left with some shiny flourishes but a weak foundation. I want to build infrastructure with the future in mind. Lean in to what’s new, not just what’s always worked. Risks. Uncle George always took the wrong ones from what I remember.”

Elizabeth assessed the new CEO carefully, impressed.

“Maybe this won’t come as such a shock to you after all, then.”

“What won’t?”

“You’re aware that Shibden has been running at a deficit the last eight years, correct?”

“Yes. Part of Uncle George’s strategy, which I never agreed with.”

Anne looked at Cordingley’s face. There was something more.

“Liz…how bad is it?”

“It’s…near-fatal. We haven’t crossed the rubicon yet, but we’re about as close as we can comfortably get. You’re going to have to make some tough decisions before the end of the fiscal year.”

Anne took it all in, the fear, the anger, and even the exhilaration of a problem in need of her solution.

“How did it get that bad?”

“All those flourishes? Those neat-o startups we bought up that are now having asset fire sales? Yeah. They didn’t pay off. As you knew they wouldn’t, which is why it’s good you’re in charge.”

“What solutions have been offered?”

“Private equity was discussed…” Elizabeth began. 

“No.” Anne wouldn’t consider it. She wouldn’t let her legacy as CEO be that of the woman who let the vultures turn her family empire into a scrap yard.

“The only other options are…you sell, or…you figure it out. It’s about a 2 billion dollar problem. Put the mind that got you that chair to work and find a revenue source or an investor that won’t make you sell your soul. But the bank is watching you. The Rawsons are watching you, the whole sector is. The smell of rotting company is on the air.”

“A year?”

“That’s how long we can stay afloat under current circumstances.”

“So my uncle left the company to me and not my father so that I could be the one holding the bag. What a nice fucking trick.”

“Your uncle put you in charge because you’re the only person in the family who could possibly fix this. You’re an idea machine. You get things done. You have been ready for this since you were 19. Plus, your father is senile.”

Anne took the compliment and remark in stride. She had big plans for Shibden. The company had fallen in reputational and stock value in the last few decades and she had every intention of restoring the name to its former glory and then some, as a vision of the future. She knew it would be a steep hill to climb regardless, but now it felt like a cliff face, one she was being asked to jump off of and build her own parachute on the way down.

_Well happy first day to me. Fuck._

——————

The work day was finally coming to an end, but Anne’s evening hadn’t even yet begun. She sat in her office, contemplating the crisis that was just put at her feet on top of everything else, and stared out the window at the encroaching New York sunset.

When she turned back, she noticed Sam and a few of the assistants packing up to leave for the night. Sam poked his head in.

“You going to that thing tonight?”

“Well yeah I’m Number Five, I should probably show my face.”

“If you need a date, I’m there. I could use an excuse to get out of the house.”

“That bad huh?”

“Suzannah’s dating a drummer.”

“I’ll keep you on call.”

“Bless you.”

Before the door could shut all the way behind him, Anne called out. 

“Eugenie? Do you have my tux for tonight?”

Eugenie popped up from her desk and appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry ma’am?”

“I hate ma’am. We’ve gotta find something else for you to say. Anyway, do you have my tux ready from the dry cleaners? For the Forbes thing tonight?”

Eugenie went white. Anne could deduce the response.

“Here’s what you’re going to do now, Eugenie. You’re going to call my cleaner, find out where he is and where the tux is, and you are going to travel at a speed which may require you to defy the laws of physics in order to have it back here by 6:00. You understand?”

Eugenie nodded hurriedly. “Yes ma’am — Miss Lister.” And she was off. Anne poured herself a bourbon, entirely through with this day.

—————

By 7:30, the steps of the Museum of Natural History were bustling with paparazzi and guests of the business world elite to celebrate the Forbes Magazine’s 50 Most Powerful Women in Business. Anne was proudly number five behind four other female CEOs. 

She stepped out of her limo at the foot of the red carpet. Her tux was perfectly tailored and finished with a cravat instead of a necktie. She arrived alone, having never really intended to call Sam. It was the sort of thing one was meant to arrive at with a date, but as a very public and openly gay figure, finding women to embrace that spotlight had time and again proven harder than Anne anticipated. She had grown used to going stag.

She made for the step-and-repeat and began posing for photographers. It was a motion she was accustomed to going through, along with the other financial celebrities traipsing the carpet with her, offering the same scripted platitudes about what an honor to be recognized.

Just as she made it near the end of the line, Anne caught a glimpse of a new yet familiar face at the other end, where she had just come from: Blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, an elegant, simple black dress and clutch to match, simple silver jewelry. Ann Walker had grown up. Ann Walker was here to remind everyone in the room that she deserved a place on this list just like the rest of them.

Anne thought back to the last time she had seen her, when she was 30 and Ann was 19. How dull and uninteresting she had found her then. But whoever this woman was, Anne felt the same twinge of…what was it? She still couldn’t be sure. But she had felt it at least once today already at the mention of the woman’s name. She would wait and see how things played out inside.

—————

About halfway through the speeches, Anne had reached her limit of flirting with financiers’ wives. She made for the bar to order herself a fresh drink. As she waited for the bartender to finish his current order and find her, she turned toward the crowd, set up around cocktail tables in the Temple of Dendor. It was a beautiful spectacle, but her eye wasn’t finding what it was looking for, who it was looking for. 

“Never enough to eat at these things. Always too much to drink,” came a voice behind her on the left. Anne turned at the remark, her lips curling into a smile at the discovery of its source.

“Miss Walker,” Anne said, extending her hand which Ann Walker shook. “It’s been some years since we ran into each other, hasn’t it?”

“It was the Hamptons and I was 19. Might be for the best if we’ve both forgotten.”

“Fair enough. What are you drinking? No sense in both of us waiting.”

“Gin and tonic.” 

Anne nodded, finally the bartender arrived.

“Scotch and Soda and a Gin and Tonic,” she directed. The bartender began fixing their drinks. They turned back to conversation.

“Cheers to you, madame CEO. Top five. Not bad,” Ann teased.

“Where did you crack the list?”

“Oh I’m back at number 30.”

“Really? You could buy and sell half this room.”

“Money in itself isn’t power, I guess. I don’t do anything with mine.”

“So I’ve heard. Why is that?”

Ann’s face grew cloudy at the question, but only for a moment. 

“It’s been a hard few years. I never had much interest in owning a company, but…I’m starting to learn. I want to learn. I’m a grown woman. My family forgets that.”

“These sorts of things don’t seem like your scene,” Anne remarked. 

“They’re not.”

“Part of your learning?”

“My publicist thinks it’d be good for me. I don’t know. I’m starting to get the appeal of this world. I grew up in it obviously, but now I need to make people realize I’m not just John Walker’s daughter. I’m ready to break out and do my own thing.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m not really sure yet. I don’t have a billion dollar idea. And I don’t really believe in making something just for the sake of getting richer. I like the idea of venture capital. Investing in creative people I believe in. I know it’s risky, but…”

“Hey, we’re not alive if we’re not taking the odd risk.”

Ann smiled. “Exactly.”

The bartender returned with their drinks. Anne handed Ann her glass. They both lifted them aloft in a toast. 

“To new ideas,” Anne declared. They clinked, but neither moved just yet, looking out over the sea of guests.

“Why is it that even at a gala for women, the only people in this world seem to be old men?” Ann wondered aloud.

“They’re a dying breed. It’s time for the younger generations to un-fuck the world before it’s too late.”

“Is that what we’re doing? You and me, who have never had to work a day in our lives?”

Anne grew a bit resentful. “I don’t know that I would go that far…”

“Oh I don’t mean you haven’t worked. Obviously, you’re the CEO of Shibden and you earned it. I just mean…you didn’t actually have to.”

“So what, just because I’m a capitalist I can’t be an optimist?”

“Yeah I think that is the rule, sorry,” Ann teased. Anne was, for the first time in quite a while, without a comeback, disarmed by this woman who had suddenly and serendipitously reappeared in her life. She still couldn’t quite place her feeling as she stood opposite the younger woman, speechless and smiling, but something felt as if it had fallen into place. She wondered if an enormous piece of the puzzle to her happiness wasn’t now standing in front of her.  
“Where are you sitting?” Anne asked. A light seemed to turn on behind Ann Walker’s eyes at the question, one that hadn’t been lit in a very long time. Anne could feel a similar flicker in her own. At the very least, it looked like her day would be salvaged after all.


End file.
